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by fortheloveoflestrade



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Waltzing, masks are fun, may continue but i'm not sure, not obvious johnlock, sherlock teaches john to waltz, tuxes too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:24:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveoflestrade/pseuds/fortheloveoflestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock teaches John to waltz for a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was written for the Johnlock Gift Exchange. Sorry it's late! This took more focus to finish that I hoped, and I kept finding myself stuck over and over again. To me, it feels unfinished, so I have not decided whether or not I will continue it or not. And it's not super Johnlock heavy, which I feel is my fault for not being more on about writing when I had the chance. A lot of the information in the first part is courtesy of Wikipedia. Also, unbeta-ed.
> 
> I hope you like this, Kayla!

_As always, you start with your feet together. Left foot leads first, right foot steps out, feet back together; right foot leads, left foot out, feet together. Repeat._

_In 1580, Montaigne wrote about a waltz he saw in Ausburg, where the dancers held each other so closely that their faces touched._

_In her 1771 novel, Sophie von La Roche wrote, "But when he put his arm around her, pressed her to his breast, cavorted with her in the shameless, indecent whirling-dance of the Germans and engaged in a familiarity that broke all the bounds of good breeding—then my silent misery turned into burning rage.”_

_And in 1816, Thomas Wilson published a work on the ‘correct method of waltzing’, which spoke of, “Waltzing, notwithstanding all the opposition its more extensive practice has had to encounter, is now generally considered so chaste.”_

_Extremely intimate in nature, such a dance where the participants are flush against each other._

_The gentleman lead would raise his left hand to the lady, who would then respond with her right; together, the joined hands remain about eye-level. A man’s right hand goes across the lady’s shoulder-blade, while the lady’s left hand lay resting atop the gentleman’s shoulder. The dancers should not be more than a few inches apart._

“John?” Sherlock says.

“Hmm,” he responds, not looking up from the morning’s paper.

“Do you know how to waltz?”

There’s a small moment of stillness and hesitation before John responds. “Why, Sherlock?”

“It may be relevant to the case.”

“How is it relevant?” he asks, avoiding the question. John’s not entirely sure what Sherlock is doing, but he’s not about to just surrender information. He’s surprised Sherlock hasn’t just deduced him.

“We may be going undercover, and I want to make sure we’re properly equipped for the situation.” He stands, passing into the kitchen and still calling out to John in the sitting room. “Your avoidance of addressing my question implies that you do not, but it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to teach you a few—”

“Oh, like you know how to waltz!” he calls out.

“Actually—” Sherlock starts, coming back out into the open of the sitting room.

“Really?” John interrupts again, looking at him with some mix of apprehensive curiosity.

“Well,” Sherlock drones, “I was raised in a class where such practices were expected—Mycroft knows, too, but he’s dreadful—but I found dancing was something I enjoyed as a adolescent.”

John looks away, blankly. “Oh.”

Sherlock, slightly embarrassed, quickly switches back to the present. “Stand up, John.”

“What?” he asks, eyes trained on Sherlock, wondering if he’s serious.

Sherlock sighs, rolls his eyes, and reaches down to gently grab his flatmate’s arm and guide him out of his chair.

“Sherlock,” John starts as he’s pulled to standing.

His flatmate turns and takes hold of the end of the coffee table and slides it away, clearing a large area of the floor. 

“Sherlock!” he tries again. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you,” he states calmly, raising his hand out to John.

John pauses. “What?”

“We’ll start with the basic box step. You’ll lead.”

John, flustered and confused as to how he ended up receiving an impromptu dance lesson from the consulting detective, cannot process fast enough to resist when Sherlock takes John’s left hand in his right, and then position’s John’s right hand on his lean waist.

When Sherlock settles his left hand on John’s shoulder, he lowers his eyes to John.

“Step forward with your left,” he directs.

John obeys, aware of how Sherlock is gently guiding him as he steps back with his right. 

“Okay, and now step out with your right.”

Sherlock mirrors the motion as John complies, stepping out with his left.

“And finally, bring your left foot to meet it.”

They step together, ending just as they began; with Sherlock flush against him, John feels the heat creeping over his cheeks.

“Good,” Sherlock murmurs, eyes fixed on John. There’s a beat of silence. “Now repeat, but lead with your right foot.”

They go slowly, Sherlock guiding with a firm hand at John’s shoulder as John steps into him. They get through the second round before they’re blocked behind Sherlock with furniture.

“And now we rotate,” Sherlock whispers, tapping John’s shoulder twice, “this way.”

They move slowly, essentially switching places. John nods, and they begin their steps again.

Sherlock lets John practice at his own pace, allowing room between them for John to occasionally glance down at their feet, and they complete three stretches across the small space of the sitting room.

Sherlock gently squeezes John’s hand and they stop, John looking up at him. “Now what?” John breathes.

He is acutely aware of the quietness of the room, and the closeness of his flatmate’s wiry body to his own, stocky frame.

“Now you spin me,” Sherlock replies, less of a command and more of a suggestion.

The corner of John’s mouth twitches unconsciously. “Uh, okay. Which way?”

“Counter-clockwise. Your left hand leads my right,” Sherlock reminds him.

“Yeah, alright,” he says.

John takes only a half-step back gripping Sherlock’s fingers in his own. “Like this,” Sherlock demonstrates, pulling John’s hand along with his as he spins—Sherlock ducks slightly to accommodate John’s reach—then ends right where he started, looking at John. 

Sherlock clears his throat. “It will be easier with a proper partner,” he says, dropping his eyes. “Likely they won’t be as tall as I am.”

John chuckles. “You’re a fine partner,” he acquiesces.

Sherlock smiles brightly, for a few moments. Then he’s back to the lesson; “We could attempt to work in a dip as well, but honestly I think you’ve got enough to be getting on.”

“Yeah, that was,” he clears his throat, “a very interesting lesson. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sherlock mutters, back in motion. He’s passing through the kitchen when he calls, “Now, you do have a tuxedo, correct?”

John sighs heavily.

—————————

They arrive, dressed to the nines. John in his brand new tuxedo—his old one had gotten a bit small and smelled like old mothballs, so Sherlock had insisted on buying him another.

Everyone around them is also dressed impeccably. Complex, expensive, colorful gowns surround them, and plenty other suits as well.

But there was something about the group that unsettled John something they had overlooked in their preparation for this evening—masks.

“Sherlock!” he whispers. “We don’t have masks.”

“Wrong!” Sherlock replies, producing two simple masks almost immediately. “Here,” he says, handing the white one to John. The one he keeps is black. They are simple with and elegant sheen, and their ties are silk ribbon.

John ties his on. He looks over at Sherlock, who takes one last scan over the room before doing the same.

“Now what?” John asks.

Sherlock smirks, cheekbone up against the mask. “Now,” he says, “we dance.”


End file.
